


Sure Fire

by birdsandivory



Series: Crossroads [2]
Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Arguing, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Corqi, Enemy Lovers, Kisses, Light Angst, Loqi Being An Ass, M/M, More Infiltrating Other People's Safe Houses, Pre-Canon, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: Sequel to Devil's Dance.+++ Loqi had never the desire to run away from his duties until the moment he'd met Cor Leonis.+++ Walking away, however, did prove a difficult task for the both of them.





	Sure Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> This was another one of my Tumblr Requests that just happened to fit together really well with another fiction of mine. I do hope you all enjoy it and give it a go; please, let me know what you think!

_"You only know what I want you to,_  
  
_I know everything you don't want me to._  
  
_Oh, your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine,_  
  
_You think your dreams are the same as mine._  
  
_I don't love you, but I always will. "_

_\- Poison and Wine, The Civil Wars_

 

* * *

 

The walls of Niflheim’s newest military base were a striking gunmetal, already corroded with a multitude of pathetic mistakes made by man and machine alike, but he thought nothing of it as he strode down the hallway — steps thrumming as he slowly made his way to the steel box that was his temporary office. How he so preferred his permanent residence within the barracks of his homeland; at least there, he had the luxury of an assistant to do his bidding and bring to him what he needed — paperwork, news, coffee. 

It was the _little_  things.

It all seemed so far away now, those days, and he supposed he would have to get used to Lucis — it was to become a part of the empire that was his own soon enough, after all.

The clicking of his booted heels were the only thing to break the silence, the span of the base long, but he was swift despite the fact. And it was a pleasant night, he would refuse to complain about the lack of disturbance, especially since the night of the Masquerade Ball — his infiltration of the Citadel interrupted, though not necessarily to the point of incompletion, as he held with him the fruits of his labor. 

The General ceased to remember the moments in which he nearly thought to desert the mission entirely, a foolish hiccup in the grand scheme.

Being far too used to the sound of radio static, he remained nonplussed by the buzzing in his ear, Aranea’s voice drawling from her place of watch in the towers above.

_“You got company.”_

His responding hum was immediate, and he remained quiet for only a beat or two, rounding a corner before speaking — a mere whisper of an ember in comparison to his usual flame. 

“I am well aware.”

_“Should I take him out?"_

The man could only scoff, his tiers a wicked simper of amusement. “If you thought him a threat, you would have already.”

Aranea’s laughter was a condescending trill, one he rolled his expressive eyes to more in one night than he could bother to count.

_“I’ll leave him to you, then. Behave, you crazy kids–”_

“Troublesome woman.” His gloved finger silenced the device, closing off all communication with the Commodore, and Loqi was glad for a moment of peace as he grabbed for his keycard, scanning in as soon as he reached the office door. 

The rush of a well air conditioned room swept over his cheeks and he sighed in pleasure at the very chill, finding it far more pleasing to bask in than Lucis’ stuffy humidity levels; he nearly allowed himself to miss home as he switched on his desk lamp. 

But he didn’t have time to think of that. 

He  _never_  had time.

What he did think of was the tension in the air, how the door to his office never bothered to close, for something — _someone —_ was blocking the sensors. Of course, Loqi had been aware of the intruder’s presence since the moment they stepped foot onto Imperial ground, feigning ignorance until he was able to safely speak with  _him_  alone.

“I know you’re there.”

From the shadows of the night it seemed, Cor Leonis stepped fully into the office with both hands up before him, mechanical door shutting immediately upon its own devices. “You caught me.” 

There was an untamed anger within the General as he turned heel, remembering that he was cornered during his own operation not a week ago, barely given the decency of honest conversation first. His thoughts, however, fled to the Marshal’s safety instead of his own claim to verbal lashings. 

_Wonderful. I can add ‘complete idiot’ to my list of notable qualities._

“What are you doing in the fortress? Are you mad?”

The older man’s hands fell to his sides, the casual lilt his tone held before replaced with his usual seriousness — though his words spoke otherwise. “That’s classified information, and something you refused to tell me the last time I saw you.”

As true as it was, there was something within him not quite mature enough to ever admit that the other was right. And it was enough for him to turn away once more, picking up a lone book from his desk, pretending to be incredibly interested in whatever was printed onto the first page. “Well, I hope you’re here to kill the Commander; he’s getting on my last nerve.”

The General did not wish to see him any longer, to look to him and confirm that lips somehow plush and simultaneously rough had pressed together, not at all enjoying his quip. “Loqi, I think you know why I’m here.”

Mechanically adept fingers curled tightly around the tome, as though the force of his very hand would crush it to dust, had his rage been hot enough. He spoke through gritted teeth, nose twitching in his withdrawn shell. “I didn’t leave a trace. So, don’t you dare claim you’re here for my arrest, Marshal.”

“I believe my being here leaves me in more danger than it does you. I’m withholding your infiltration, that is  _treason_.” Despite the fact that he was merely stating truths, there was a softness about his tone reserved for the Nif himself that Loqi felt was disarming in every possible way, a trick of the mind or some skill of manipulation that left him unguarded.

He  _hated_  it.

“Then why didn’t you just out me then and there?”

“You know why.”

“Please, cut the bullshit.” The book was slammed shut as quickly as it had opened, falling to the iron plat below with the strike of blades clashing. “Did you come here just to tell me how valiant you would have been, having  _warned_  me away like some white knight? Cocksure, aren’t we, Immortal?”

“I gave you an out because I wanted you clean of charges. You could have escaped, what about our plans?”

With a sharp inhale, nearly a gasp, the General’s fist met his desk — only spurring the Marshal with the childish display. “Oh, screw the plans! I nabbed copies of the archive because I’d rather steal from your Lucian blue bloods than face execution for denying an order.”

“You would have been safe with me!”

“I would have never been welcomed!” Spoken with a broken, dry sob, he was glad to have turned his back — ashamed of his cracking syllables, though the tension had dissipated. The silence following was rather terrifying, but neither of them commented on such, Loqi instead begging the Astrals for peace —  shoulders squared as he looked down upon a pile of meaningless paperwork, his wish brought to a close by two scarred hands that fell to the surface before him. Cor’s strong arms hung on either side of his body, forehead barely a touch on his burdened collar. His voice was quiet, mirthless, and he thought it not his own; it belonged to a man much older than he was in body. “Do you know what’s to happen in a matter of days?  _Your King—_ …With or without the files I grabbed, it will not change that future.”

“I know.”

Loqi felt his own sigh, like giving up or giving in — he didn’t really know, but as he about-faced in the arms of The Immortal and looked into a reflection of pained blues and brows pinched in frustration, he thought there was a good chance that neither of them did.

“We will  _always_ be enemies.”

“…I know.”

The affirmation hurt worse than the statement, that, he was sure of — and with a final pitch of preservation in his heart, he placed tentative fingertips along the man’s chest, inclining his head in order to ask for claim.

“Then let us savor it.”

“Loqi–”

Quick with his hands, as he had two, he pressed a lone digit to parted lips — wanting nothing more than a moment.

“ _Shut up_ …and kiss me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments motivate me!


End file.
